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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24205876">Bring to Simmer</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/personaljunkdrawer/pseuds/personaljunkdrawer'>personaljunkdrawer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>To Consume [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, I am still horrible at tagging, Love Languages, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Sexual Confusion, Substance Abuse, Unresolved Sexual Tension, borderline dangerous levels of incompetence, break-ups, regrettable decisions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:34:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,169</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24205876</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/personaljunkdrawer/pseuds/personaljunkdrawer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's pretty commonly accepted that love conquers all, or at least that when applies the right way, that it can. What often becomes secondary in that narrative is communication.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Colby Brock/Brennen Taylor, Sam Golbach/Katrina Stuart</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>To Consume [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1745941</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So this is going to be several stories in a series because I like that format. As always, comments keep me going, I live off of them, please like, just tell me what you had to eat yesterday or something - talk to me!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b> Los Angeles - February 14, 2021 </b>
</p><p>“Alright, fine then.” Brennen sighed, and turned the engine off, pulling the keys out. “Since you want to do this now, we can do this now.”</p><p>Colby made the conscious decision to pass over the clear exasperation in Brennen’s voice. “I’m not - ‘do this’, what do you mean by ‘do this’?”</p><p>Brennen leaned back into his seat. “'Do this', as in, we were having a good night, everything was going well, we were on a good track, and now you want to have this ‘discussion’”. </p><p>“I’m not trying to ruin the night, or anything, I just don’t understand the logic behind telling me you love me, telling me you haven’t done anything like this before, and then choosing to <i>not</i> tell me you’re going to Italy!”</p><p>A car passed, Brennen waited for a moment. “I have been on Elton’s roster for over a month, Colby, you’re on the fuckin’ roster too. You've known about this, don’t act like I’m the fucking bad guy-”</p><p>“There isn’t a bad guy, dude, this doesn’t have to be a fight - I just want to know why you wouldn’t tell me you were <i>staying</i> in Italy.” Colby could hear his tone, hear the edges leaking into it, feel his chest tighten. He didn’t want this to ruin the night, but he couldn’t do another round of the Act-Like-Everything-Is-Fine game. It was exhausting. </p><p>“It is an opportunity of a lifetime; why wouldn’t I?”</p><p>Colby just balked at him. Half of him wanted to just get out of the car and walk home.</p><p>“If you had the same chance, wouldn’t you do it?” Brennen turned to him, looked at him, finally. “Look me in the eyes and tell me right fucking now that you wouldn’t take an opportunity like that.”</p><p>His mouth opened, shut. He gaped like a fish out of water. Because in Brennen’s shoes, he absolutely would. Even in his own shoes, he would.</p><p>“Exactly. So I don’t know why you’re picking a fight over this.”</p><p>With a sigh, Colby conceded.</p><p>Brennen exited the car and made his way up the driveway to the large doors of the mansion. Colby hurried after him.</p><p>---</p><p>The air was brisk on the balcony, refreshing, sobering. He tapped Brennen’s shoulder and handed him the drink he’d ordered. The noise below was warm - voices, music, shuffling feet dancing about. But Colby couldn’t quite find it inviting. It seemed just another daunting expectation - a tax on his energy that he hadn’t voted for. </p><p>“I don’t think we’re compatible.” Brennen finally spoke, leaning casually to look up at Colby.</p><p>He didn’t disagree. He’d wondered. “Okay.”</p><p>“And I don’t...I don’t want you to change for me. I love you because you’re you, and I want you to keep being you, but I just - it’s important to me. And I know you don’t care about it, it’s just some trivial thing to you, and it doesn’t matter to you,” it stung him to hear it put that way; but he had tried to explain himself plenty of times and was far too tired to attempt it again. , “But it <i>does</i> matter to me. And it just makes me wonder what’s wrong with me.”</p><p>“There’s nothing wrong with you, Brennen.” It came out a little more desperate than he’d wanted it to. A little more hurt. “I -” He’d explained it to Brennen so many times now, and if he’d wanted to understand then he’d have actually listened. Not listened just to pick it apart and invalidate him, but to actually attempt to grasp the concept, to merge the rift of incompatibility. But he hadn’t, so Colby just took another swig of his drink. </p><p>“I feel like you’ve already separated yourself from me, man.” He shifted closer. “Like you’re already taking yourself away from me.”</p><p>Colby shook his head. Maybe he was, maybe it was subconscious, but he doubted it. Because he was exhausted, and that only came from effort. He had put in <i>so much</i> effort in the last month to make Brennen feel cared for. And it had amounted to nothing.</p><p>“I’m not - it’s not me separating. I don’t know what else to do.” He sat his drink down. “I’ve been - every day, I’ve been making it a point to compliment you, to ask how your day was, to be touchy, and close, and - and if that’s not enough I don’t know what else to do.” It was beyond frustrating. He wasn’t used to that feeling, that little shrink in his chest that made him feel small and hollow. Wasn’t used to feeling inadequate, incompetent. “So you tell me. Tell me what you want, here.”</p><p>Brennen tossed back the last swig of his drink and motioned to one of the roaming waiters for another. “I <i>have</i> told you.”</p><p>“Okay, then I -”</p><p>“No! I’ve put <i>so much</i> into this waiting game with you - so much that I’m letting myself and my own life slip through the cracks.” </p><p>It felt like a slap. Felt just a little more of his inside shrink smaller. </p><p>“It makes me feel like some - some out of control, disgusting animal. Like you don’t want me.”</p><p>Colby snatched his drink back up. “Well, I do! I do want you and I’m <i>trying</i> to show you that and apparently it’s done fuck all to get through to you, and I don’t know what else to do!”</p><p>“Listen - I know sex is just fucking and nutting to you -”</p><p>“No, we talked ab-”</p><p>“But it’s about connection for me. It’s a sharing of energy, for me. And I feel like, every time I try to be physical with you, you’re not ready.”</p><p>Colby scoffed. Of <i>course</i> this was about sex. It was Brennen, he wasn’t sure what else he was expecting. “Maybe because I’m not r-”</p><p>“I just don’t get it - because if it’s so much nothing to you, if you’ve done it before, then why not with me? You make me feel so insecure about myself!”</p><p>Colby could feel his throat tighten. </p><p>“You make me feel like this disgusting, animal, <i>thing</i>. That I want to, and you don’t. So then what? I just go jerk off in the shower? What a fucking waste.”</p><p>“Brennen, I don’t -”</p><p>He grabbed the glass from the waiter and stirred it, swished it. “And I wonder - I ask myself - ‘What am I even doing here? Why am I even bothering?’”</p><p>“Can I ju-”</p><p>“And it’s a bad habit I have, I know it is - that I fucking <i>care</i> about people, so I give, and I give, until I don’t have enough left to take care of myself. And it’s not fair to me. I pick you up, and buy valentine’s gifts, and go do shit you want to do, and you can’t be bothered to return the affection.”</p><p>That was it. Something in his chest snapped like a brittle twig, and it all bubbled up to fill his voids until it spilled out. “Can I just finish my <i>fucking</i> sentence without you interrupting?!”</p><p>Brennen scoffed. “All you do is talk - about yourself, and your shit, and your day, and your life. And the one time I want to -”</p><p>“I ask you!” His voice shook. He didn’t have the stability to care right now, not with all of this crashing around him. “I ask you every fucking day how your day was, and I make you coffee, and I don’t text you until I’m pretty sure you’re free so you can get your work done, and I asked, I <i>asked</i> if you were sure you wanted to buy me a gift. All I ever try to do it make sure you feel fucking cared for, Brennen, but apparently, none of that matters! It only matters if we fuck, right?” He took a step closer. The simmering swells picking up heat. </p><p>“It only matters if we fuck to, like, seal the deal, or some shit? Is that it? Is that why you’re going to Italy?”</p><p>“See, there it is! It’s just fucking and nutting to you, I want to <i>connect</i> but apparently you don’t care!” </p><p>“Brennen, fucking <i>listen</i> to me -”</p><p>“All I do is listen to you!”</p><p>“No, you fucking don’t. You make everything about yourself, and what you need, and how great you are; and when you don’t get what you want out of it you play the victim and run away. Right? So now you’re going to Italy. Fine - go.”</p><p>“What?” Brennen dropped his glass. Neither attended to the shards.</p><p>“That’s why you’re going - isn’t it? Because I’m trying to compromise here, I’m trying to meet you in the middle!”</p><p>The waiter hurried into their space. “Sirs, we’re going to have to ask -”</p><p>“Yeah, I -” Brennen waved him off, eyes locked on Colby. “I’m, yeah, I’m leaving.” He shoved past the waiter, hurrying to the stairs.</p><p>Colby stepped to follow him. “I-I’m so sorry about that, I - I have to follow him, make sure he’s…”</p><p>The waiter simply gave him a curious look. It reminded him of how his band director looked at him when he was screwing around; how Brennen looked at him when a third finger hurt too much - like he expected so much better. <i>Not mad, just disappointed</i>.</p><p>He caught Brennen in the stairwell, slumping hurriedly down the flight. “Brennen, wait.”</p><p>Brennen stopped at the bottom, into the open air. He waved down a cab and stumbled to it.</p><p>“Brennen!”</p><p>“What?!”</p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p>Brennen just laughed. He wrenched the back door open and scooted inside, turning back to Colby. </p><p>“Can I give you some advice? Like...for the next guy?”</p><p>Colby just balked, already onto the next guy. Not much else he could do. Not that anything he'd done thus far had counted, apparently. </p><p>“Don’t be so fucking selfish.”</p><p>He could feel his eyes water. And he wasn’t sad. He was frustrated, and confused, and disappointed, he was a lot of things. But he wasn’t heated, or shaking for those things. Like his body wasn’t obligated to follow through on his heart’s orders.</p><p>Brennen patted the seat next to him. “Get in the car, Colby.”</p><p>So he did. He slunk into the car and shut the door behind him. Muttered out the address to the driver, and turned to Brennen. His eyes were closed, not squeezed, not pained, just at peace in his corner of the back seat. </p><p>The knot in his throat cinched tighter as his vision blurred. A tear slipped down his cheek. He wasn't sad, but his body cried anyways, obligated as ever, to what Brennen wanted it to feel.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Colby cleans up a mess he's been avoiding.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>West Hollywood - February 14, 2021</b>
</p><p>With messy, tripping steps, Colby helped Brennen haul himself up the stairs and into his apartment. He managed to open the door with relative ease and chug along, depositing Brennen onto the living-room sofa for the time being.</p><p>“Where ya goin’?” Brennen mumbled. <i>Home, hopefully. Fuck this. </i></p><p>“Nowhere.” Colby announced. He dug through the kitchen for two clean cups and filled them nearly to the brim with tap water. Brennen continued to mumble to himself on the couch, eyes shut and writhing sluggishly about.</p><p>He sat one glass on the table in front of Brennen. “You should drink that.”</p><p>Brennen hauled himself up to sitting with a wince and a groan. He pried his eyes open to look dazedly but directly at Colby. “ ‘M sorry, babe. I shouldn’...I shouldn’ be like that at the party, ‘m sorry.” </p><p>Colby just felt himself lurch internally. He wanted to accept it, as a real apology. As a little bump in the road that they could work through and get past. But Brennen had been black-out, sloppy, wasted drunk. And drunk men didn’t lie. In fact it was the most honest Brennen had been with him in weeks, or at least it seemed so.</p><p>“It’s fine. Just drink the water so you’re not, like, dead tomorrow.”</p><p>Brennen groaned, his eyes sliding up to the ceiling, with steady, paced breath. </p><p>“Got the spins?”</p><p>“Mhmm.” At least he had the clarity of mind to not try to nod or move around too much. “C’mere.” He reached out with grabby hands for Colby. And as horrible as he felt about the whole night, he could actually very much go for a hug.</p><p>He slipped onto the sofa, tucking a knee in and wrapping his arms over Brennen’s shoulders. He smelled of alcohol, and cologne, and so distinctly of Brennen. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. </p><p>Brennen pulled an arm around his waist and held him close. He didn’t rock or rub or pat, nothing to agitate the inebriated nausea in roiling low in his belly, but he wanted Colby close. Wanted him securely next to him - with him. He pulled back for a moment and brought a hand up to his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss.</p><p>It was soft at first, and then firmer. He flit his tongue across Colby’s lips and felt him jolt. And something about that just made it all fall apart, that last tenuous filament of hope he’d had that he could make this work.</p><p>Colby fell back onto the rug with Brennnen’s shove to his shoulders. “Wha-?”</p><p>“God, you’re a shit kisser, you know that?” His eyes stayed sealed to the ceiling, but his voice was direct enough. The withering bulk of him shrunk just that much further within himself. </p><p>“I-I just…” Why was he even bothering to make an excuse? “I just don’t like that much tongue, s-sorry.” The last work coming out far stronger than the rest of it. </p><p>Brennen’s eyes snapped down to his - his face wrought with incredulous disgust. “Really?”</p><p>Colby didn’t know how to answer that.</p><p>“You’re a fucking grown man, and ‘I don’t like that much tongue’” He mocked. “Grow the fuck up.”</p><p>And somewhere in the mess it seemed to make sense, suddenly. That he was pushing him away. <i>Why</i> he was pushing him away. Somewhere deep down, Colby thought, or at least hoped, that Brennen was punishing himself. That he knew that something was wrong, and he was forcing Colby away as a means to chastise his own short-comings. At least he’d wished that was the case - a smaller pill to swallow than the idea that he really was just immature, incompetent, inadequate.</p><p>Well if he wanted Colby away, if that’s how he needed to process it, he would get it. Colby shoved himself to his feet, and moved out of the living room.</p><p>“Go to sleep! Go to sleep, Colbs.” Brennen shouted after him, slurring, wrecked. “Jus’ go to bed.”</p><p>Colby scoffed. He hurried into the bedroom to gather his scant belongings left behind, and filled another glass with water once he’d made his way to the kitchen. He downed it quick, breathing through the nausea, and called an uber. </p><p>“Go to bed!” Brennen called again. He was on his side, shirtless, on the sofa, with one hand on his stomach and the other dangling to the ground. Colby just shook his head, and let the man throw his drunken stupor of a tantrum. Hoped that was all that this was.</p><p>“Brennen, please.” He whispered. He wasn’t sure what he was even pleading for, he knew for certain that Brennen wouldn’t hear him, but he still felt the need to just air it out. </p><p>The car arrived shockingly quick, so he quickly downed half a glass more, and grabbed his bag. He carefully opened the door and stood for a moment, letting himself breathe in the crisp, night air. It wafted away some the fog left by the alcohol, only to make way for the stinging pain that sunk into a dull ache. </p><p>He heard Brennen mumble something to himself, far behind him, and then the shattering of glass and the spilling of water. He turned. The mess sat on the floor across the room from Brennen’s slumped form. “Fucking go then!”</p><p>He shut the door behind him.</p><p>---</p><p>
  <b>Los Angeles - February 15, 2021</b>
</p><p>The glare of the morning sun on his eyes was less than pleasant, admittedly, but he was thoroughly encouraged by the almost complete lack of hangover, given the roughness of the previous night.</p><p>He’d eaten a quick breakfast, downed several glasses of water, and showered, even ventured to the gym for a quick work-out and stretch, and by lunch, felt fresh.</p><p>He smiled to himself as he pulled up to the Polynesian-themed mansion, parking and whipping out his keys. There was something in the air, something light and quick and energetic that made his chest widen, made him feel he could breathe deeper than before.</p><p>His room, however, had been just shy of a nightmarish mess for weeks on end. It didn’t smell <i>bad</i> per se, but it wasn’t his best show of effort in design, and he knew a mess like this would drive Sam up a wall if he were to lay eyes on it.</p><p>“Sup, man.” Corey gave, passing behind him.</p><p>“Oh, hey dude!” He shot him a smile.</p><p>Corey quirked an eyebrow at him. “You look, uh...you look...happy?”</p><p>Colby shrugged, “Just in a good mood, I guess.”</p><p>Corey gave him a satisfied nod and continued down the stairs. “We’re doing some drink-thing for Jake’s video downstairs in like an hour if you wanna join.”</p><p>“Sure!”</p><p>He stepped further into the room, and sat his bag down. He’d had a ritual for this before, but he hadn’t gotten to it in at least two months. It was involved, but for once, he felt the energy to do it. </p><p>He yanked back the black-out curtains and despite the wince, smiled into the light.</p><p>“Hey, Alexa - play ‘Nine in the Afternoon’ by Panic! At the Disco.” </p><p>“Playing ‘Nine in the Afternoon’ by Panic! At the Disco, on Spotify.” She announced. He silently thanked his past self for not unplugging her.</p><p>Laundry was in, stray dishes washed, trash tossed, and clutter being decluttered when Sam knocked at his door.</p><p>“Yo.”</p><p>Colby turned, lube in one hand, taco sauce packet in the other, grin wide. “What’s up.”</p><p>Sam’s brows shot up. “N-not gonna ask about <i>that</i>. Just, uh - wanted to see how you’re doing?”</p><p>“Doin’ fine, why?” he shrugged, tossing the packets and shoving the lube into a drawer. He picked up an old journal and shelved it.</p><p>“Well, Brennen’s been kinda blowing up my phone since this morning. Wanted to make sure you’re alright.”</p><p>He stopped. Felt his body stop without his say-so. “We uh...he broke up with me last night.”</p><p>Sam hummed, low. “I’m sorry, dude, I-”</p><p>“No, don’t be. It’s for the best. I wasn’t really sure about it, anyways, I think.” He shelved another book, forcing himself to keep moving.</p><p>“Sure about what?” Sam made his way into the room and tossed an old receipt on his way to the bed.</p><p>He shrugged. “The whole thing, I guess. I dunno...I’ve always been curious but I couldn’t like - I don’t know, I just think maybe it’s not for me.”</p><p>Sam nodded slowly, picking at his nails. “Right. Okay. Well, I mean...as long as you’re happy, that’s what matters, right?”</p><p>“Right.” Colby placed a labradorite crystal next to his book and searched around for the matching selenite. “What’s up with you?”</p><p>Sam perked up. “Not much, nothing, just uh...just wanted to make sure you were okay.”</p><p>Colby ambled over to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in for a short hug. “I’m good, dude. I promise. Thanks for like...being there and stuff. You’re the shit.”</p><p>Sam chuckled. “Of course, brother. And if you need me to like, beat him up or something, I will.”</p><p>Colby cackled.</p><p>“What? You don’t think I could take him?”</p><p>He pressed down his amusement. “N-no, I just...yeah, no, I appreciate it but he’d probably beat your ass.”</p><p>Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m stronger than I look, you know that.”</p><p>“Yeah, he’s just...aggressive...is all. Just - no, no need to fight anyone, just...thanks.”</p><p>Sam nodded.</p><p>“Filming in five, ass-lickers!” Came Jake’s voice from below.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sam is concerned.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Los Angeles - February 21, 2021</b>
</p><p>Sam sucked at his teeth, hissing, watching Colby stumble his way through the webs of people in their living room and into a kitchen.</p><p>He shifted his own weight to keep an eye. Colby grappled with his cup, giggling to himself, cheeks flushed and vision wavering. He held the bottle upside down, nodding thrice before setting it down and giving a splash of coke to darken the mixture. He sipped and winced, <i>hard.</i></p><p>Sam felt himself chuckle at the sight. Until Colby shook the scrunched expression of disgust off of his face and grin into the cup. He took another sip, and shuddered. Then nodded.</p><p>Sam pressed his weight off of the foyer wall and stalked toward him. Colby took another sip, wiping the spill off his cheek with the back of his hand.</p><p>By the time Sam made it to where Colby had been standing, the brunet was perched by the far end of the living room, shot glass in one hand and cup in the other.</p><p>Jake made some announcement, and raised his glass, but it was drowned out by Corey's thumping music, bass throbbing up through his feet to rattle his bones. The people around raised their glasses in turn, and shot them back. Colby washed his down with whatever scant excuse for a "mix" was in his cup. </p><p>He smiled toward the crowd before his eyes found the ground. Sam watched.</p><p>Watched the dim sparkle fade from his eyes, the apples of his flushed cheeks smooth into a blank face. And then the smooth of his brow furrow into a frown. He stared into the nothing in particular, while Jake finished whatever joke he was cracking, while Corey emerged from the bathroom and took a hasty shot to catch up, through Kat sifting through the crowd and approaching Sam.</p><p>"Hey, what's going on? You look worried."</p><p>Sam just shook his head. "Colby."</p><p>She nodded, and turned to lean against the wall next to him. Her fingers were pruned where they slipped down to hold Sam's hand. There was a shout from through the door outside, to the pool, but Kat turned to the girl beckoning her, and signed no, the water from her hair dripping onto Sam's shoulder. She smelled like chlorine, and smoke, and some non-descript perfume. <i>Pink</i> or <i>Victoria's Secret</i> he supposed. </p><p>"Do you know what's up with him?"</p><p>Sam gave a long sigh. He brought his cup to his lips, but then settled it down, and squeezed Kat's hand. "'M gonna go talk to him."</p><p>"Okay, babe." She held his hand for a moment longer as he pushed away from the wall. "Is it okay if I change in your room?" </p><p>"Yeah, of course." Sam pressed a quick kiss to the back of her thumb, still crossed over his. "I put your bag under my desk, but there's fresh towels, I think, in the dryer."</p><p>She nodded and released his hand, to give him a push, before disappearing in the direction of the stairs.</p><p>Sam made his way toward Colby, whose eyes flickered from the floor up to meet his. And for a moment, he saw it.</p><p>In the suspension between the gasp of the girl to his right and the laugh yet to come, between the contact of a distant ball and the <i>plunk</i> into the water of the cup, he could see it in Colby's eyes. It was small, and quivering, and half-decayed. And then it was swung, and he was beaming, for just as long.</p><p>It had settled to a bright smile and dim eyes by the time Sam was in ear-shot.</p><p>Colby had his cup raised. "Sa-"</p><p>"Hey, can I...I need to talk to you."</p><p>Colby took a swig. Sam watched carefully, didn't reach out to take he cup, didn't see a shudder, or waver. In his person or his facade. "Shoot, brother."</p><p>Sam wiped his face with his hand. "Not here."</p><p>Colby shrugged. "O-okay?"</p><p>Sam nodded his head over his shoulder and turned, making sure Colby was following. They were half-way up the stairs when Colby mumbled something and half tripped. Sam caught him, the drink sloshing over his arm and into the stairs.</p><p>He caught Colby's gaze. He looked more mourned over the liquid on the floor than the briskly bleeding scratch on his shin.</p><p>"Fuck, Colby, come on." He sighed.</p><p>"I'm gonna go get -" He shook to cup and turned to leave, but half tripped again as Sam had a grip on his arm.</p><p>"Colby. <i>Please."</i> Colby met Sam's eyes and if he didn't want a drink before, seeing the sincerity, the urgency in Sam's eyes, the worry lines on his face, he definitely wanted a drink now. But Sam pulled him, and he couldn't resist the momentum. With a resigned nod, he set the cup down.</p><p>"N-no, this is a walkway." Sam picked it up.</p><p>"Right."</p><p>They made their way to his room, Sam gesturing for him to enter before shutting the door behind himself.</p><p>"So what's-"</p><p>"What the fuck is going on with you, dude?"</p><p>Colby shrugged. "Nothing. I dunno."</p><p>Sam nodded, arms crossed over his chest. "Really?"</p><p>"I'm serious." Colby shifted where he sat.</p><p>"Okay, so then tell me <i>seriously</i> what's up with you. Because you're drunk half the time, and the other half you're staring into space, and I'm worried about you."</p><p>Colby made some half-laugh of confirmation and nodded, brows up and lips down.</p><p>"What the fuck, Colby. You never - you <i>never</i> hide things from me. So like, even if it's <i>me</i> that's the problem can you just tell me?"</p><p>Colby shook his head, his hands picking at the fabric of the blanket under him where he sat. "No I mean like... nothing is going on with me. Nothing. And I dunno as in I don't know."</p><p>"That's not an explanation." Somehow, it didn't feel like a deflection either. </p><p>He sighed. "Nothing is...I don't...I don't feel as much as I used to. I feel like everything is easier but in this way that I'm floating, and like...like I have so much space in me that I'll just get full of air and float away."</p><p>Sam balked. Yeah, this was a Kat-talk. Speaking about complex emotions in analogies was Kat territory for sure.</p><p>"Like...like if I breathe any deeper I'll stop existing. So I just want to hold my breath, and stay where it's easy but I don't want to sink down too far and get stuck."</p><p>He stuck a thumb in his mouth and bit at the nail. "Stuck where?"</p><p>"I don't know - in some fucked up place where everything hurts."</p><p>Sam moved over to the bed, moved quickly. Because that - that scared him. He placed himself next to Colby, his knee against Colby's thigh. Colby didn't move an inch.</p><p>"I just...I feel like I've been doing so fine alone. And then I remember that it's my fault that I'm alone. And then I feel like shit. I shouldn't feel fine knowing I ruined a relationship. And I didn't - I don't know what I did <i>wrong</i>. Like...I know the words, but it felt like I was doing the right thing, by myself. And that fucking hurts. Because that's...because as long as I'm just being myself, I'm gonna be alone. I can't trust myself to do what feels right. But I don't know, man. And I don't wanna...I don't wanna be alone."</p><p>Sam squeezed Colby's arm. "Hey, man -"</p><p>"It's just this fucking cycle." He wasn't slurring, or tripping over his words. He may as well have been sober, at least as it sounded. "Where I think I'm doing great, and then it turns shitty, and then I get over it and do great until I remember that it's my fault that if got shitty, and then I have to get over that, and it just...it just keeps going. But nothing's actually <i>up</i>, it's just me...fucking up repeatedly."</p><p>Sam turned, craned his neck down to look at Colby's face, eyes trained to the ground, nails picking at his cuticles.</p><p>"Colby, shitty things happen. Shitty relationships happen, it's not your fault."</p><p>"It is."</p><p>"It isn't."</p><p>"It is, and I feel fine, I feel good, and I feel like fucking shit, Sam, because it's my fault and I feel fine." It had tapered off to a shaking whisper by the end.</p><p>Colby jolted, rocked. Sam was wrapped around him, sternum pressed to his shoulders, arms pinned to his side. "I'm fucking scared, Sam." He felt the haze part, make way for the cacophonous cracking in his chest. He heaved once, and then again, and then he sobbed. Silent, and shaking, he sobbed.</p><p>"Colby, it's not your fault, okay. Shit...shit happens, but it's okay to get over it, it's okay. I got you, it's okay."</p><p>"I-it's not." He managed between choking waves of whatever nebulous, painful emotion this was. He didn't know what to call it. Grief, maybe.</p><p>He curled down, nuzzled his way into Sam's arms more comfortably, and hugged him back. He'd only meant to wrap an arm around, but he couldn't help the grasping, clinging. The familiarity, and comfort, and promise of 'okay'. </p><p>Sam pulled him into his chest, and brushed fingers through his hair, holding his just a bit tighter when Colby shook and cried into his shirt. He leaned back until they were laying down and let Colby wrap a leg between his, let him hold close and let it out.</p><p>The music thrummed quietly from below, while Sam rocked. Colby, after some indeterminate time, calmed. His breath shifted from hitching hiccups, to the occasional sob, to the soft, steady cadence of sleep.</p><p>Sam awoke to fingers brushing across his cheeks, a soft warmth against his lips.</p><p>His eyes fluttered open. "C-..." He rubbed his eyes. Colby was still nestled into his side, but Kat stood above him, in pajamas. The lights were out and the music was off. "Kat?"</p><p>She sifted fingers through his hair, and pressed another kiss to his lips. "I'm gonna sleep in the guest room, okay?" She whispered. "I just wanted to check on you. How's he doing?"</p><p>Sam sighed. "I think I was right to be worried. I don't know I'm just...I just want him to be happy."</p><p>"I know, babe." She brushed her thumb across his cheek, grinned at the prickling of his stubble.</p><p>He brought his free hand up to cup hers. "Can you stay in here?" </p><p>"I'm not sleeping on the floor." She tossed him a disapproving look.</p><p>"In the bed."</p><p>Colby groaned, burrowed closer. The back of his hand sat softly on the base of Sam's sternum. Sam wasn't sure how that could possibly be comfortable. </p><p>"No, he needs you right now and I think me being here might not...it might be too much."</p><p>Sam considered for a second, as much as his clouded mind could, and agreed. He perked up to kiss her again, and squeezed her hand.</p><p>"Okay, have a good night, babe. I'll see you tomorrow morning. Still down for getting paint and stuff?"</p><p>He nodded, "Yeah. Night babe." He puckered for one more kiss. She obliged, sweet and lingering.</p><p>"Love you, babe."</p><p>"Love you."</p><p>He woke briefly, hours later, on his side, with Colby's back pressed to his chest, calm and warm. Happy, how he only ever wanted to see him. He slipped his arm across Colby's waist before easing back into his dreams. </p><p>--</p><p>The was a soft, warm breeze rustling the hair, tickling Sam’s nose. He’d floated up close enough to consciousness to be aware that he was no longer dreaming and took in the new day around him. The fabric under him was soft and smooth, he made a mental note to thank Kat for forcing him to use fabric-softener on his linens. His hand was not, however, on the same surface. He moved his fingers across something peachy, and warm, and plush. </p><p>He ventured his eyes open, the light softer than he expected. It wasn't the cruel, glaring light summer, yet. Colby was turned to face him, still in his notoriously deep sleep that seemed to verge on a coma sometimes. He chuckled. His fingertips rested on his cheek, pale freckles dusted by his cheek bones. His thumb came to brush across the soft almost-stubble, to his lower lip. </p><p>It was pink, plush. He could picture all the moments of an anxious Colby biting at his lip in a meeting, or a confident Colby doing the same for a photoshoot. He grinned to himself, running his thumb over the cupid’s bow. He was fine like this, in a sense. Sure, he had no clue what Colby was dreaming about, but he was at least seemingly at peace.</p><p>And it hurt him to watch his best friend flounder so painfully through this. He’d had his own moment of questioning things, questioning himself and his sexuality and interests, more than once, in fact. But he’d settled on a solid ‘Who Gives A Fuck, It’s No-One’s Business, Anyways’, and carried on. It was always a bit rough when Colby had one of his moods, but he usually resolved it by retracting into his shell and staying in the cavern of his bedroom until he’d mostly sorted it out. But this was different.</p><p>This was going out, and drinking, and shopping, and doing seemingly anything to avoid that cavern, avoid that alone time. The time they both knew he needed. This was an externalizing anxiety, and it made something in Sam’s gut grow cold. </p><p>It was maybe Jake that had told him once about manifestation - that with focus and belief and intention, a hope or thought or idea could be brought into reality. He placed his forehead softly against Colby’s and traced his jaw; focused on the boldness to say whatever he needed to to whomever he needed to say it. His fingers trailed up to his hairline, dye growing out, and corralled his thoughts to peace, and happiness, and self-trust. He wished he could thumb his lips apart and slide a finger over his tongue - for better taste in men. But he kept moving, wishing here and there for stability, for clarity, for whatever support he needed.</p><p>His hand settled carefully over Colby’s heart. It wasn’t often he’d met people both so rough and soft at the same time. Not in the way some have a hard exterior and a delicate inside, but in the way that their expression came from a simultaneous sensitivity to the world. He could never ask Colby to be harder, more analytical, or detached. But he hoped it was alright to wish resilience upon him. </p><p>He snapped out of it when he realized his thumb was absentmindedly flicking Colby’s nipple. Goddamn No-Name shirt left nothing to the imagination. Not that he had much he needed to imagine with the reckless and questionable friendship/partnership/roomate-ship/fanfic-ship they’d had for years now.</p><p>Colby wished he’d made his way at a leisurely pace through the dark space between his dreams and his waking, had meandered mindfully into the morning. Instead, his hangover grabbed him by the hair and yanked him up, and dragged him unceremoniously there, and dropping him carelessly into a throbbing headache and a dry mouth. He peaked one eye open, and it took him a moment to process. He’d been expecting dark, curly hair, and hazel eyes staring at him. Expected dark sheets, and calloused fingers, and an erection pressed to his leg. So he didn’t quite get what was happening when he just saw filaments of gold. </p><p>“What?” He croaked to himself.</p><p>The gold blob shifted back. Sam smiled at him. “Mornin’, sunshine. How’s the hangover?”</p><p>He just groaned, rolling onto his stomach to bury his face in a pillow. “Were you touching my nipple, dude?”</p><p>Sam shrugged. “It’s a thing Jake told me about.”</p><p>He laughed, and peaked out. “Your nipples really that small, that you gotta touch somebody else’s?”</p><p>Sam rolled his eyes. “No, you asshole, I was just wishing you...I dunno...a better future, or, like, a smoother go of this - whatever you’re going through.”</p><p>Colby’s eyes searched his for a moment. He looked like he wanted to smile, but couldn’t quite get there. The thing was, Sam had an odd habit, when he was talking about his own feelings, the real and visceral ones, when he was uncomfortable, or didn’t know how to process, his hands would drift up, a mind of their own, and circle his nipples. They'd had to edit it out of a video, once, but the odd image of Sam, eyes watery and jaw tight, slowly moving to fondle himself through his shirt, definitely provided some comedic relief.</p><p>Colby figured it was some sort of base-animal self-soothing method - something about having a way to occupy his hands and being a mammal with nipples, it must just soothe him, or ease his way through the conversation, provide some stimulus other than the painful conversation. And that’s not really how Colby processed his feelings, he usually did it <i>without</i> involving any erogenous zones, but he understood the sentiment, and appreciated it.</p><p>“Thanks.” </p><p>“You’re welcome?”</p><p>He just shrugged. “So what’s the plan for today?”</p><p>Sam smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.”</p><p>“Kid’s sketchy.” Colby mumbled. “Back to you guys.”</p><p>Sam snorted, and then pushed himself to sit up. “Uh...breakfast, and Kat was gonna help me paint a mural in the office, if you wanna help. You’re good at creative shit, right?”</p><p>“I guess - yeah. Coffee sounds good.”</p><p>“Breakfast, with food, Colby.”</p><p>“Right.” He made his was slowly to sit. He braced himself for a throbbing headache or a spinning room, but it wasn’t as bad as he’d expected. “Coffee.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>My ex used to play with their nipples during arguments as a self-soothing method, or whenever they felt individually scrutinized. They didn't realize they did it until I pointed it out one time. It took some...getting used to.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Kat encourages Sam to continue supporting Colby.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter will contain the only explicit smut for this work. But it's me writing it, so there will be more in the future. Just a heads-up.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Los Angeles - February 22, 2021 </b>
</p>
<p>Kat hissed, shuddering under the weight of Sam on her lap. The instant buzzing always surprised her every time, even when she was the one to flip the switch.</p>
<p>“Fuck, Kat, please.” He ground down against her, pressing the vibrator further with his weight. “I’m so close.”</p>
<p>“Uh-huh…” she nodded, only partially on this plane, the rest of her in a heated blissful elsewhere. She was never any good at holding off, they’d tried edging once, maybe a year ago. It had failed miserably. This, however, <i>this</i> worked like a dream. An absolutely filthy wet dream that left them both blushing in its wake. </p>
<p>Sam rolled his hips, more grinding than riding, stroking the toy across his prostate. His weight kept the separate vibrator pinned to Kat’s clit, where she shivered and groaned, and worked her way upward. His free hand, the one that wasn't in a death-grip on the headboard against which Kat was leaning, was stroking himself rapidly to the edge.</p>
<p>She managed to meet the pace of Sam’s chase, digging her fingers into the globes of his ass and helping him along. As much effort she could put in, she would, not that he really needed the help. </p>
<p>“Kat, I - I’m - <i>oh</i>.” He hinged over, rutting himself back against the dildo and burying his face in the crook of her neck. Her hand found his hair and grasped tight, the buzzing of the vibrator sending magic through her body. She could always tell when she was going to cum, she could feel it in her nipples, oddly enough. But if anything truly did it for her, it was Sam losing control on top of her. </p>
<p>His moan stuttered half-way, and became a shout. He whined his hips, wringing out every last wave and drop of his orgasm, while Kat arched and undulated below him. He took a few deep breaths, and waited for the stilling of her hips before shutting the vibrator off. They'd worked this down to a science...or an art. An artful science.</p>
<p>“Cute.” Kat sighed with a giggle, before kissing him softly.</p>
<p>“Cute?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, you’re so cute when you cum like that.” She was all doe-eyes and rosy-cheeks. God he wanted to fuck her senseless, but they were both too sensitive and his dick, despite its keen interest in the idea, needed a break.</p>
<p>“Well, thank you.” He gave, with a composure that surprised even him. He could feel his ass throbbing around the strap-on still. He reached back to hold it at the base and slowly lifted himself off, hissing at the empty feeling left behind. He slipped two fingers in in its stead, and rolled onto his side, patting his chest with the other hand for Kat to come and snuggle in.</p>
<p>She worked quickly out of the harness, and shoved it off of the bed, sliding in next to her man. “I don’t get how that’s comfortable for you, just pulling it out like that.”</p>
<p>He shrugged, and placed a kiss on her head. “I mean, it’s fine. The finger idea definitely helps.”</p>
<p>She hummed her understanding. “It just feels better when you stay in till you get soft then, like, ease it out.”</p>
<p>He laughed, the movement of his chest tickling her nose. “Well, yeah, but I can’t fuck my own ass and dildos don’t get soft.”</p>
<p>“S’okay” She kissed his sternum. “I’ll fuck your ass for you.”</p>
<p>“Well, thank you! I quite like it when you do.”</p>
<p>She peeked up at him, a wicked glint in her eyes. “I know.” She nearly purred. He slipped one finger out and smirked at her.</p>
<p>“Do you ever wish, like, that it did?” She’d had this habit, at first, that surprised him.</p>
<p>“Wish what?” This habit where he thought he’d have to pry the real question out of her because she was so tender and timid around the topic, or at least presented that way.</p>
<p>She pressed her cheek to him, so her mouth was unobstructed. “Do you ever wish that it was a <i>real</i> dick fucking you? Like one that gets hard and soft and stuff? Like maybe it would feel good to feel a real dick opening you up, ya know?”</p>
<p>And then she just up and said shit like that. In that casual tone, like it wasn’t going to get him hard enough to crush diamonds. He’d have spit his water out if he’d been drinking any. Still, his mouth felt wet. Kat felt him twitch against her leg.</p>
<p>“I-I don’t really know....” They’d established, in a slightly high conversation about a month ago, that the butthole was the least intelligent part of the human body, followed closely by the cuticles and the backs of the knees. “...I haven’t, like...well, I don’t think my ass would know the difference, but I’ve never tried it. Maybe, I guess?”</p>
<p>She nodded against him. “Would you ever want to try it?”</p>
<p>“I -” He looked down at her, perplexed. “Kat, you just <i>did</i>.”</p>
<p>“No!” She giggled. How she was always so light like this, like a bubble on a summer breeze, he’d never understand. “I mean, like, would you ever want to try getting fucked by a real dick.”</p>
<p>He faltered. </p>
<p>“You don’t have to answer now.” She closed her eyes, and let her head sink into the pillow of his bicep. He eased the last finger out and wiped it on discarded boxers. His messy hand came to play with her hips, and the swell of her ass. “Just, like...Okay, so I-” she took a moment.</p>
<p>It felt like receiving a ‘We need to talk’ text. His breath caught in his throat. “<i>I</i> don’t want to fuck anyone else. I don’t want a, like, totally open relationship, or anything. But I want you to feel comfortable exploring this side of yourself.”</p>
<p>His chest relaxed, heart swelled, thank fucking god for this woman. He pulled her closer to him. “The gay side?”</p>
<p>She shrugged, fingers playing across his chest. “If you wanna call it that, sure. I just meant the side that likes getting fucked. All I’m saying is, like, if you want someone who actually knows how to use a dick to fuck you, I’m...I support you.”</p>
<p>He tapped her chin, and placed his lips firmly against hers. He didn’t have the words right now, to list all of the higher powers he thanked for her, or date all of the times he’d questioned why she even bothered with him, or recall every time she made him feel like the morning sun rising on dew drops. But he could attempt to put it into a kiss. “Kat, I fucking love you. <i>A lot</i>.”</p>
<p>“Good because I love you so much it makes me gassy.” She muttered back. “Just, think about it. Mkay? Promise me you’ll think about it.”</p>
<p>He left himself there, with his forehead against hers. He could see it, even with his eyes closed. Pink cheeks and soft lips, swollen from kisses and bites; soft skin under his touch, long legs wrapped around his; dark hair tangled between his fingers, even darker eyes; blue eyes. </p>
<p>“Y-yeah...I promise.”</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>
  <b> Los Angeles - February 25, 2021</b>
</p>
<p>“You got this, you can do this.”</p>
<p>Sam stopped his pacing to shake his head at her. “I can’t do this.”</p>
<p>She placed her hands on his cheeks. “Yes, you can. It’s not happening all at once, just like...float him the idea and let him mull it over.”</p>
<p>He groaned. “He <i>just</i> told me how much he appreciated the night after the party, I can’t just waltz in a throw a wrench in his progress right as he’s getting better.”</p>
<p>She sighed. “It’s not a wrench, you’re not forcing anything. It was <i>my</i> idea anyways, so just tell him it was my idea but you’re not opposed, tell him we’re here for him for whatever he may need.”</p>
<p>He dropped his forehead onto her shoulder. “I don’t think he needs my dick, Kat.”</p>
<p>She stroked her nails across his scalp, smiled at the way he melted against her. “No, <i>I</i> need your dick; but he needs your care, and maybe he wants some of that ass.” She took a playful handful as he snorted.</p>
<p>“So what? I just tell him ‘Hey, sorry about your break-up, but in the event that you're still pan, look what I got you - an emotional-support prostate!’?”</p>
<p>She giggled, “No-o, you tell him that you care about him, and you understand that navigating stuff like this can be hard, and you can help him, and you’re coming from a place of love," She slowed her petting through his hair, "And it was your girlfriend’s idea so he doesn’t have to worry about it being shady, and we’re not asking for commitment or anything serious, we are just offering our availability if he is so inclined to accept assistance in this trying time.”</p>
<p>He stood back. “Why can’t you just tell him?”</p>
<p>“Because I’m not the one he’d be fucking.” She patted his butt. “Go get ‘em, champ!”</p>
<p>He took a steadying breath. “I’m doing this because I love and care for him.”</p>
<p>“Exactly.”</p>
<p>“And he was super supportive when I was questioning things, and he deserved to be cared for.”</p>
<p>“Correct, and super proud of that part, babe.”</p>
<p>“And we may as well because half the internet already thinks we’re fucking.”</p>
<p>“Well, I mean -”</p>
<p>“And if I can help him, I <i>should</i> help him.”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“With my ass.”</p>
<p>“Precisely. You got this!”</p>
<p>He gave her a quick kiss, and a smile, at least tried to mirror the genuine optimism in her eyes, and made his way down the hall.</p>
<p>Colby’s bedroom door was open, so he took a deep breath. He turned behind him, to see Kat poking her head out of his room, giving him a thumbs up. He returned it timidly, and knocked on the door jamb.</p>
<p>“Yeah, what’s up.”</p>
<p>He cleared his throat. “Can I, uh, can I come in?”</p>
<p>Colby tossed him a quizzical look. “Sure.” He patted the bed next to him. Oh, god, a bed. With Colby. It had never been intimidating before - well, before he’d found that he came exceptionally hard thinking about Colby on top of him and Kat beneath him. He shook himself. “You good, man?”</p>
<p>“Y-yeah, I just uh...wanted to like...float an idea by you.”</p>
<p>Colby nodded, and scooted over in the bed. He tapped at his phone for a second before hopping out entirely. “Oh, cool. What’s the idea.”</p>
<p>Sam took a seat on the bed, facing the closet, where Colby was headed. <i>Focus</i>. His phone chirped. <i>Focus, broken</i>. “So...I mean, you know I care about you, and I really appreciate how, like, supportive you were when I came out and stuff, right?”</p>
<p>Colby hesitated, with his hand on a shirt. “Yeah, of course.” He turned to face Sam. “I - dude, that was really, like...you’ve always been the brave one, but I <i>really</i> fuckin’ admire that about you.” </p>
<p><i>God, he was so nice, why was he so nice?</i> Sam glued his eyes to the floor and centered on his breath, he could do this. He could <i>totally</i> just proposition a vulnerable, heartbroken, kind, caring -</p>
<p>“Yeah, I don’t know if I ever said it, but like...you coming out is kinda what gave me the push to start exploring myself.”</p>
<p><i>What?!</i> Not that he wasn't all for the idea of Colby 'exploring himself' because of Sam, but <i>what?!</i></p>
<p>“What?!” Sam jolted. </p>
<p>Okay, so maybe he actually <i>could</i> proposition a vulnerable, heartbroken, kind, caring, Colby, shirtless Colby, he was not wearing a shirt now, oh god.</p>
<p>Sam swallowed, watched the muscles of Colby’s back shift as he slipped another shirt over his head. His hands itched to smooth the mussed hair. God, Kat was right. He <i>had</i> been repressing some shit.</p>
<p>“Yeah, man. I just - you don’t need to thank me for anything, like, of course I support you, man. And you have been like the number one person there for me through everything, and -” Another two chirps rang from the phone, back to back. </p>
<p>Colby sighed, his shoulders sagged. Sam resisted the urge to peek at the screen on the bedside table. </p>
<p>“...Well, yeah, just...I appreciate the other night. No 'thanks' needed, I think we both know how much we appreciate each other,” He turned back to Sam. His eyes damn near glittered at the sliver of light through the curtain. “Right?”</p>
<p>“Y-yeah, totally.”</p>
<p>“So what was your idea?” He posed. He smiled at Sam for a second, just long enough to make his heart flutter. He so did not deserve him, or Kat, neither of them. </p>
<p>“Uh…”</p>
<p>Colby just gave him an odd look. Expectant.</p>
<p>“Right, so…” he cleared his throat. “Y-you know that I-” Two more chirps interrupted him. Colby rolled his eyes, and marched over, snatching to phone up.</p>
<p>“Sorry, hang on a sec.” He swiped it open, and Sam watched, feeling both relief and something like gravity as Colby’s eyes lit up, a grin pulling at the corner of his lips. Soft.</p>
<p>“...I, uh...well Kat and I support you, and if you like...needed help with your, um…”</p>
<p>Colby tapped away. He’d barely had his phone in his pocket, barely had his attention back on Sam, when it rang.</p>
<p>"Sorry, dude, gotta take this."</p>
<p>Sam dropped his face into his hands. This was an absolute shit-show. </p>
<p>“Yo, yeah -” Colby spoke into the phone. “Yeah, I’m almost - yeah, sure.” He clicked it off, and slipped it back into his pocket. “I’m so sorry about that dude, what were you saying?”</p>
<p>“J-just, like, Kat and I-”</p>
<p>
  <i>’Front door, open.’</i>
</p>
<p>“Yo!” Came a familiar voice, bellowing up from the foyer. Sam could feel himself sinking further, failure accelerating.</p>
<p>“Sorry, that’s Brennen. We’re getting lunch.” And he was smiling. Because he had no fucking clue, and he was sitting there with hope in his eyes, and Sam couldn’t help the way his chest caved.  How was he even here? How did he have the gate code? How did he have the <i>door code</i>? That wasn’t safe. Colby wasn’t safe!</p>
<p>“Can, um...I’ll be back in a few hours, and you can tell me about your idea - does that work?” He hurried to the corner to slip into his boots, any leisurely pace picked up to a rush.</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Sam felt he should get up. He should leave. All of the nerves and irritation of being interrupted by the phone, by Colby or Brennen, by his own train of thought, just sublimated into a stench of guilt. He’d been the one interrupting. “Yeah, that works. I didn't know you guys were...”</p>
<p>Colby straightened up. "Yeah, we're just gonna like..." he fiddled with his jacket, "Just, like, we've been talking and we're gonna get lunch-"</p>
<p>"Colby!" Called Brennen from bellow.</p>
<p>"Sorry, I gotta-" he gestured out the door.</p>
<p>Sam nodded, shoving himself up and toward the exit. "Sure, yeah. Just uh...good luck, and yeah, find me when you're done."</p>
<p>“Cool, thanks, man.” Colby tossed him one last smile before scurrying out of the room and down the stairs.</p>
<p>“You ready?” He heard Brennen’s voice echo up through the hall as he made his way back to Kat.</p>
<p>“Yeah, let’s go.” And fuck, did Colby sound happy.</p>
<p>He picked up his pace, but faltered at the distinctive <i>smooch</i> of a kiss, before the door slammed shut.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Brennen and Colby get lunch.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Is it written? Yes. It is written <i>well</i>? Haha, no.</p>
<p>I just needed to get this chapter out, I am so excited to move onto the ones after this, and I did the best I could with it.</p>
<p>As always, comments and <i>constructive</i> criticism fuel me, so please let me know. Talk to me.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Los Angeles - February 25, 2021</b>
</p>
<p>“You ready?” Brennen beamed at him as soon as he was down in the foyer. He looked genuinely happy to be there, and it gave relief to the hurried tightness in Colby’s chest.</p>
<p>“Yeah, let’s go.” He grabbed his keys off the hook and held the door open. Brennen slipped through, and turned as Colby closed it, pecking him quick, but hard, on the lips.</p>
<p>In a jolt, he yanked the door shut. “I...um…”</p>
<p>Brennen just held him with an expectant gaze, arms crossed over his chest.</p>
<p>“I-I know we’ve been talking more, and like, I <i>am</i> excited to hang out,” He was, it was a relief to know they could attempt to resume their previous friendship, “but I don’t think we should...do that.” He felt whatever he was holding inside slip, as Brennen just sighed, pivoting quickly towards the car.</p>
<p>“Of course not.”</p>
<p>Colby caught up quickly. “No, not - look, I’m sorry, I just don’t think it’s a smart decision to jump right back in. Ya know?”</p>
<p>Brennen stopped, wiped his face with his hand. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right - I’m sorry, okay? Just like...force of habit.” He held the passenger side door open for Colby before ambling around to the driver’s side.</p>
<p>Colby moved easily into the car. It felt no different than every other time Brennen had come to pick him up in the last couple months, nothing changed at all. He wasn’t sure if that should worry him. He caught Brennen’s eyes, lit up bright in the sun, and fixed on him.</p>
<p>“You look really good, like this, ya know? It’s just...it’s hard not to want to kiss you.”</p>
<p>He smiled, nearly blushed. Brennen had always had this way of making him feel something, making his body react before he could process it.</p>
<p>
  <i>God, you’re a shit kisser, you know that?</i>
</p>
<p>The flutter faded slightly before his smile did. “Thank you. So, where are you thinking for lunch?”</p>
<p>With a soft smirk, Brennen made a decisive selection for a spot in Pasadena, and drove toward the hills.</p>
<p>
  <b>Pasadena</b>
</p>
<p>There were little moments throughout - little actions - that set a filter over him. Where suddenly and seamlessly everything felt like nothing had changed. Rummaging for parking, walking to the little eatery, even ordering, and eating their fill. </p>
<p>Colby settled into the passenger seat and reached across through the open door to take Brennen’s leftovers and stack them carefully in the back next to his. He’d wished he’d had space for the chicken salad, he’d heard good things about it. Maybe that would be dinner. After he talked to Sam about whatever this idea was.</p>
<p>Brennen pulled out of their spot and headed back towards the house, offering Colby the aux cord with one hand. A little thing here and there that felt like immersive nostalgia, for a moment that felt far longer ago than it truly was. Felt like if he sunk in deep enough, he could stay there where it was familiar.</p>
<p>He took it with a grin and popped it in, scrolling quickly through his Spotify for a song they played often on car-trips. The distinctive thrum of the bass kicked in, and he could feel another layer of <i>go back</i> waft through him.</p>
<p>Brennen snorted in immediate recognition. “God, this song.”</p>
<p>Colby opened his eyes, hadn't realized he’d shut them. He sounded less than entirely pleased. “What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“Just like...all those times of coming to get you and chill and you pick <i>the most aggressive</i> song.” He laughed from his gut, but there was something bitter in it.</p>
<p>“O-oh...I mean you never said anything. I can -” he paused the song, searched for another.</p>
<p>Brennen gassed through a yellow light. “No, it’s fine. Play whatever you want. You have the aux, right?”</p>
<p>And then there was a different wave. Something not sepia, but a little more blue. Something just as familiar, that made him want to sink into himself. “I-I guess.” He picked an old indie song, and turned his screen off.</p>
<p>
  <b>Los Angeles</b>
</p>
<p>He shifted for a moment in his seat. Neither of them felt it was a natural ending point to the hang-out.</p>
<p>“Look, I...I want to talk about the Italy thing.”</p>
<p>Brennen snorted. “Of course you do.”</p>
<p>He shifted to face him, as much as he could in the confines of the seat. “Okay, what the hell is that supposed to mean?”</p>
<p>“It means we could talk about us, or the weather, or life, or anything, but <i>you</i> want to talk about Italy again.”</p>
<p>There was the blue again. May as well sink into it. “Yeah, Brennen. I do. Because it’s important to me, and I’d like to be able to have a conversation about it, is all.”</p>
<p>Brennen turned to look out the far window. “Right, well, we’re not even together so what’s the point?”</p>
<p>
  <i>Ouch.</i>
</p>
<p>“The <i>point</i> is that you’re my friend, and I fuckin’ care about you, and I just feel like you’re running away or separating or something.” He set his phone on the dash, and leaned the seat back. No intention of leaving until this got somewhere.</p>
<p>“Okay.”</p>
<p>“Okay?”</p>
<p>Brennen leaned his seat back to match, eyes on the roof of the car. He reached up to fiddle with the sky light. “I’m just saying, ‘okay’, like...I accept that you feel that way. That’s how I felt before. Like you were finding any excuse to run away or separate from me.”</p>
<p>He barely managed to hold in a groan. “I wasn’t. I told you I wasn’t.”</p>
<p>“That’s not how it felt.”</p>
<p>“Okay, then I accept that that’s how <i>you</i> felt, or feel about it. I’m just asking you for like...any clarity at all.”</p>
<p>Brennen nodded. “What do you need clarified?” </p>
<p>“What does that mean for us?”</p>
<p>“Means nothing, we’re not together. Being long-distance wouldn’t be any different than how it was before, so I don’t really see the point in having a relationship, then.”</p>
<p>Sinking.</p>
<p>“Right.” Colby sighed. “How exactly is living ten minutes apart versus thousands of miles not different?”</p>
<p>Brennen shrugged. “I mean, like...if you’re in a relationship and there’s no physical intimacy, how is that any different from a friendship?”</p>
<p><i>Seriously?</i> Colby’s mind struggled to process that for a moment before he found a way to verbalize himself. “It <i>is</i> different, though. For example, I fucking love you.”</p>
<p> Brennen’s sudden gaze was penetrating. “Yeah, and you also love Sam, and you and Sam are just friends, and you’re not physical; and you and I love each other and we’re not physical, so how is that different?”</p>
<p>“Brennen, what the fuck, man? You and I <i>were</i> physical. Maybe not all the time, maybe not the way you liked, but I have to go at my own pace, dude.” He sighed, sitting up from his reclined position.  “Me not being ready doesn’t mean I don’t have fuckin’ feelings for you.”</p>
<p>“So then how is that fair - that I have to slow down for you to be ready to show your feelings, or whatever, but you can’t speed up when I’m ready to show mine?” His gaze didn’t falter, or fall.</p>
<p>He didn’t know how else to get his point across, how many different ways he could phrase it in the hope that in some combination and order of words it would make sense. “I-I’m just saying - I tried to show you a hundred different ways, and it seems like the only thing that matters is that you’re not getting your dick wet.”</p>
<p>“It’s not about getting my ‘dick wet’, Colby. It’s about being able to fuckin’ show someone that you love them and want to connect with them, and being vulnerable.” He rolled back to recline again, gaze back to the roof.</p>
<p>“Have you considered that there are other <i>valid</i> ways of showing love other than demanding vulnerability?” He didn’t mean for it to come out as a snarl, but it did. He could feel Brennen cringe.</p>
<p>“Yeah, anything other than what I need is valid, I get it.” He sighed, scrubbing his face and sifting his hair.</p>
<p>“How the <i>fuck</i> do you expect me to be vulnerable with you, when you make me feel like shit for it every time I try?”</p>
<p>Brennen tossed his hands up. “I’m not making you feel like shit for it, I’m seriously trying to just like, encourage you to connect with me, but that’s not what you want - or at least it’s not your priority.” His demeanor dropped. “So like, why fucking bother trying to pull of an empty relationship, then?”</p>
<p>Colby planted his feet and unlocked the door. “Okay, so we just stay friends, and you stay in Italy after the TFIL thing?”</p>
<p>“I haven’t even signed anything, dude! What the hell - why are you <i>so</i> caught up on this?” Brennen shot up, “I don’t have anything set in stone, yet, it’s just an offer - but you’re so stuck on what I’m going to be doing when I’m away and I would hope you’d give the same fucks about our relationship when I’m physically here but I guess not!”</p>
<p>“Do you <i>seriously</i> think I’d be trying to have this conversation if I didn’t give a fuck?”</p>
<p>Brennen groaned. “I think you give a fuck how you want to, because you’re your own priority. And you just want me around to have me around, and it’s fucking selfish. And it sucks because I love you, and I care about you, and I want to connect, and for whatever reason, you don’t.”</p>
<p>“So, what, we’re just friends, and we ignore all feelings, until I’m ready to fuck or whatever, and then it’s back on and you stay?” He could hear how absurd this all was, could feel it in the tightness around his throat, the suffocating blue of it all.</p>
<p>“No, not ‘fuck or whatever’, until you’re ready to be fuckin’ real and vulnerable, and connect, and make the relationship a priority! Because if you’re not - what’s the point? Like, yeah, I care about you, and there are feelings, but I can’t just sit around feeling myself wither, dude.”</p>
<p>Not much else he could do with that. Not much further he could go from there. He’d already tried every way he could think of, every way he was okay with, and apparently that all counted for nothing. All of it cumulatively was still negligible. “Okay.”</p>
<p>He got out of the car. “Can you let me know what you decide on Italy, though?”</p>
<p>“Are you fuckin’ -”</p>
<p>“No, because I care, whether you believe me or not, and I want you to go for what you want to go for and do what you want to do, but if one of my best friends is moving continents for a year, I’d like to know. Is that okay with you?”</p>
<p>Brennen followed him out of the car, crossed his arms over the roof. “Yeah. That’s...yeah. I’ll let you know what I decide. I have to either sign or decline by the tenth so…” He sounded so suddenly soft, and warm, and giving. </p>
<p>Colby sighed, tried to let some of the tense energy fall off of him. God, he didn’t want it to be this way. “Okay…okay. Thank you.”</p>
<p>He nodded. Colby punched in the gate code and hurried into the house, trying to keep his chin up and his pace strong until he was past the front door. </p>
<p>“Hey, you’re back!” Sam was passing the living room when he hung his keys up.</p>
<p>He cleared his throat, keeping his back to him for just a moment - time to toe out of his shoes and put on a smile, before turning around. “Yeah. Kinda tired, though. So I’m gonna maybe take a nap, I think.”</p>
<p>Sam nodded slowly. He knew that smile, knew the vagueness, the ‘kinda’ ‘maybe’ ‘I think’. “O-okay, you feelin’ alright?”</p>
<p>Colby cleared his throat. “Yeah, just, like, tired I guess.” He started to hurry up the stairs. </p>
<p>“Did you have fun?”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” He stopped mid-flight.</p>
<p>“With Brennen, did you have a good time when you were with him?” He wasn’t sure why it had come out that way, but it felt like the question he wanted to ask.</p>
<p>Colby looked to his bedroom door. “U-uh, yeah. Yeah, I guess.”</p>
<p>“Okay, well...feel better.” He moved toward the theater-room.</p>
<p>“Thanks.”</p>
<p>Colby shut the door carefully and threw himself onto his bed. He nuzzled under the comforter and opened YouTube, nothing like a gaming stream to shake off the residual blue. He curled into himself, propping his phone up on the pillow, when he remembered the chicken salad.</p>
<p>He cursed himself, having left it in the back of Brennen’s car. He’d wanted to have it for dinner. Maybe share it with Sam, and ask him about his idea. But he couldn't now. And he wasn’t sure why, it was just his leftovers, but it made his eyes water.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Game night.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a short one, the next will be out soon.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Los Angeles - March 3, 2021</b>
</p><p>“Jake, get in here and pull a card!” They were down to the wire on a round of King’s Cup waiting for their postmates to be delivered. They’d saved a TikTok inspired deck from the quarantine times last year, and decided to play with that instead.</p><p>Jake scuttled haphazardly into the room, bumping himself on the edge of the sofa but somehow not spilling a drop as he plopped into his seat. He grabbed for a card, nearly breaking the circle around the cup in the middle. “Drink if you’re drinking wine,” he read , “Who the hell drinks wine?”</p><p>Corey took a sip from his cup, pinky raised. “I like merlot.” He cood, and took another.</p><p>Sam’s turn, next, was delayed by the pining of his phone. “Oh, postmates here?” He tapped it on to check. Reggie gave him a nudge with his hip, indicating he’d take his turn for him. He stood from his spot and made his way to the door.</p><p>The night air was crisp, had that almost-humidity of late spring. It was balmy but cool at the same time, and reminded him distinctly of the pizza at coachella, in the same way that the smell of a certain cleanser reminded him of his sister. A car had pulled up, but it wasn’t a postmate. Colby’s red kia. </p><p>“That was quick.” Sam noted. He’d gone to hang out with Brennen again which usually resulted in him coming back in the wee hours of the morning, if not later.</p><p>Colby hopped out, and brandished his phone quickly in Sam’s general direction. “Sorry, I know I shouldn’t text and drive.”</p><p>“What?” Sam checked his phone. <i> ‘Mind if I join you guys? No-go on Brennen.’</i> “Uh, yeah. Sure. We’re waiting on food, if you wanna order something for yourself.”</p><p>Colby just shrugged, gesturing back to the door once he caught up to where Sam stood. “Nah, not hungry. How’s game night so far?”</p><p>“TikTok King’s Cup.”</p><p>“Oof, yikes.”</p><p>“Yeah, but Corey’s drinking wine so this should get interesting.” Corey had a tendency of being almost completely composed on any amount of hard liquor, but for whatever reason, red wine hit him the way tequila <i>ought</i> to, and their chronically hilarious friend always kept spirits high.</p><p>Colby chuckled at the thought and held the door open, toeing out of his shoes and hanging up his keys. “I’m gonna change, I’ll be right back.” Sam just gave him a nod as he jogged up the stairs and into his room.</p><p>He took a deep breath, once the door was closed. He wanted to sink into the bed and just lay by himself. A part of him didn’t even want to talk, much less have a game night. His body jittered with energy but he still felt somehow exhausted, like the tired was behind his eyes instead of under it.</p><p>He peeled out of his skinny jeans and pulled off his shirt, opting for a far more comfortable basketball shorts and tee shirt. His phone lit up to life on his bed. He ignored it for a while, taking a moment to move his clothes and a few others strewn on the floor into a hamper. But he’d cleaned his room the day before, and there wasn’t much more distracting and procrastinating he could do.</p><p>The phone chimed again, before he dropped with a huff onto his bed.</p><p>‘r u still coming over?’<br/>
‘WHat the fuck, Colby’<br/>
‘Call me’<br/>
‘Idc if ur driving, put me on speaker’<br/>
‘k guess not, whatever’<br/>
‘Dude wtf is going on’</p><p>Colby could feel it boiling in him, steam building pressure in his chest. He closed the messenger app and opened twitter, scrolling quickly to his last tweet. He took a screenshot and went back to his messages.</p><p>The image showed Brennen, in an office with a scouting agent, both smiling and shaking hands. The picture was clearly taken by someone else, but that wasn’t a posed smile, that was genuine joy on his face. Unbothered bliss and contentment. He held up, in his other hand, a set of keys and a small Italian flag.</p><p>‘Signed, sealed, delivered.’ The caption read. </p><p>‘I don’t know, you tell me.’ Colby added to the screenshot, and pressed send. He held the power button until the phone turned off and tossed it under his pillow, stalking swiftly out of the room. </p><p>Fuck it. If he could run around saying one thing and doing the other, feeling one thing and acting the opposite, then so could Colby. If he could be so committed to making it work, and communicating honestly and then break the only promise he made, so blatantly and so easily, then what could be so hard about a game night with the boys, right? Sure, he was exhausted, and sure, he was upset. But he could either be upset in his room, by himself, or be upset and have some fun. And it had been a while since he’d had fun, much less bliss and contentment.</p><p>He dropped himself onto the floor next to Corey, who put a fatherly hand on his shoulder. “Glad you could join us, son.” He mused, taking a sip of his wine.</p><p>Colby pulled a cup from the stack and reached for the bottle of five-dollar merlot. “Glad do be here.”</p><p>“You doin’ alright?” Kevin asked. He kept it light, but he always felt it a little when someone was upset, and thought it better to at least ask than brush it off.</p><p>Colby looked up at him with a small smile at first, but then it grew. His eyes warmed for a moment. Because these were people that invited him, that checked in when something was wrong - to at least <i>notice</i> when something was wrong. It made him <i>want</i> to smile. </p><p>“I’m doin’ pretty great, here.” And he’d meant it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. UPDATE</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Okay, so a little update here.</p><p>I have some personal stuff going on and this story is helping me process it a lot, which is why I am committed to keeping it going (unlike Salt Circle, which was just me letting my intrusive thoughts use Google Docs for an hour).</p><p>I realized that the subject matter of some later chapters that I am working on are not only intense to write but that it is intense to go back to the inspiration for them, so I've had to slow down the pace a lot and take my time with it.</p><p>I think it'll make for a better experience altogether to not just shove myself through it to get through it so I thank y'all for your patience.</p><p>I'll be back -</p><p>PJD</p>
  </div></div>
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